Michael Musto Book Launch At The Copacabana!

One hell of a dazzling party! This one will be long and well remembered. The essence of fab New york City. Here's a glimpse.

And here's a video.

Fork On The Left, Knife In The Back, Michael Musto At Heart

For twenty-seven New York City years (127 elsewhere years), Michael Musto has delivered a reliably sparkling column called La Dolce Musto, the first thing most readers turn to when they open The Village Voice. Musto is fascinated by and in love with New York City, and NYC loves him back and embraces him completely as its Renaissance gay clown prince who knows all the good dirt. Simply, if Musto is preoccupied with someone or something, we should be too. In a city crawling with pouty Carrie Bradshaws, bless their hearts, Musto’s entrance at any event is a benediction and a raised baton signaling the overture to greater fun.

Most of us see him about town from a respectful distance—not that he is aloof—but I finally sat down with him at the East Village, Cooper Square offices of the paper to see if he was really the kind of man I suspected. On the day of the Casey Anthony verdict, a trial he had covered with relish, we watched the televised scene in the courtroom. When I asked him if he felt justice had been done, he said, “Oh yes. Absolutely.  No evidence of murder one.” The verdict was incidental to his titillation with the story. It is the human drama and people in all their colorful, quirky and tawdry glory that beguile him.

I asked how he became “Michael Musto”. Was it intentional?